


Wating is Wasting

by Harukami



Category: Camp Fuck You Die (LJ game), Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during a CFUD thread where Mello was tied up for fear the Death Note was going to be used to control him, and Chisame started talking about kinky things like guns and knives.</p><p>Originally posted to LJ on Aug. 19th, 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wating is Wasting

Chisame offers to stay the night out of loyalty -- and, admittedly, a certain amount of sexual perversion and grief. She doesn't want to miss anything of Mello but she also doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth and, from the way Mello's tied to the bed, it's been really hard to miss the bulge in his pants.

"Thank you," Near says. "I can handle it from here."

"I'm sure you can," Chisame mutters, then puts on her best smile and pretends there aren't tears in her eyes as she turns back to Mello. "All right, then. Enjoy your dinner and sleep well; I'll come back tomorrow, if that's okay?"

Mello makes a soft noise through his gag. Near nods to Chisame, quietly. "That would be welcome, Chisame-san," he says.

Chisame leaves headquarters, shutting up tight behind herself, and Near turns to Mello.

 _Hungry_ , Mello had said, and had added, _and also for food_ and Near can tell as easily as Chisame could.

He sighs.

On the one hand, he thinks, now that Mello is a liability he cannot afford to be one; there are rules against couples having sex, after all. On the other, there is something deeply wrong about Mello dying a virgin, and he most likely will die; they both know it.

"Which," Near says, softly, "would you prefer to have first?"

Mello blinks at him and mmphs through the gag. He turns to type on the keyboard again, nose first, and Near moves the computer away from him.

"One noise for first option, two for second option," Near says tonelessly. "Sex first or food first?"

Mello's eyes widen, dark and shocked, both pupils and irises small compared to the sudden sea of white. "MMMMMPH!"

"Masturbation," Near says, "is expressly allowed. And as your hands are tied, I am, of course, going to be helping you perform any physical necessities."

The noise Mello makes when Near's hand comes to the front of his pants and squeezes lightly is deeply gratifying; throaty and low and muffled by the gag. Mello arches on the bed to press against Near's hand as best he can, considering how he's bound, and Near presses his hand down again almost in reassurance.

The next noise out of Mello's throat is a whimper, distant and needy, and Near thinks, regretfully, about how he'd always sort of planned to take his time -- doesn't it just figure that Mello would need it fast and immediate?

He undoes Mello's belt, unzips his fly, does his best to wriggle the incredibly tight pants and underwear down. Mello makes a hiss of pain, and then another groan as Near tugs his erection free, holds it in his hand hot and pulsing and thinks, _ahh, Mello's this far gone already._

It's almost enough to make him suspicious of Chisame.

But then, Mello being Mello, he probably couldn't maintain the erection if it were Chisame, Near thinks with some dry humour, and begins to jerk Mello off quickly, not wasting time to tease or play. The quicker they do this, after all, the less risk there is of getting caught.

Mello cries out, a strangled, muffled noise, throttled in his throat, and moves awkwardly to thrust with Near's hand, rhythm slightly off. Near watches him, watches expressions twist his face, his mouth work around the tight gag -- there'll be bruises, Near thinks, across Mello's cheeks from lip out, when the gag's removed -- as he labours to breathe and move and come.

He gets the last, at least, head jerking back against the pillow, limbs tightening in his bonds, choking around the gag as semen spills through Near's fingers. Near keeps stroking, slower now, easing him through it, and shifts uncomfortably.

Well. There's no harm in it now, at any rate, and he takes his hand off Mello, lets Mello's penis drop and shoves his own pants down to take hold of himself.

Mello's eyes widen slightly, and he rolls, shifts as best he can, to watch.

The gaze is almost uncomfortable -- he feels exposed, even with just the two of them alone in headquarters -- but it's just Mello, after all, and though he might normally close his eyes, he keeps them open, trained on Mello, because this is probably as good as it's ever going to get.

He grits his teeth and works himself quickly, almost rough; there's no point in trying to last, and no point in caring what it looks like, and he comes barely a minute later, soundless, eyes open and on Mello and his teeth clenched tight.

Mello makes a soft noise through the gag and closes his eyes, but he opens them again a moment later.

As orgasm fades in shaking, heated, tense waves, Near slowly relaxes forwards. He cleans them both up perfunctorily with a tissue and tucks them both away and then looks up at Mello's face and sees Mello heavy-eyed and tired, watching him.

"Still hungry?" Near asks, toneless.

Mello shakes his head, blinking at him sluggishly.

"Tired, then," Near says, and watches Mello nod. "Sleep, then."

Mello closes his eyes.

 _I love you_ , Near doesn't say, but then, he doesn't need to; even if Mello doesn't wake up, it's something they both know well enough.


End file.
